


Operation UST

by Roll_Away_Brain



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: I wrote this around ten years ago, It makes me chuckle so I though I'd share, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Original Character, Prowl is Oblivious, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but so is Jazz, could be crack, it's the name of the game, unnamed character - Freeform, who if you really wanna call him a character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roll_Away_Brain/pseuds/Roll_Away_Brain
Summary: "And Primus above could he ever be patient; one didn't last long in tactical without patience. So when Jazz ever so faithfully sauntered in to convince Prowl to come and get some energon with him, he knew that the moment of truth had finally come. Operation ‘UST’ was a go."
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Operation UST

You could say he’d seen a lot, although, no one would ever think to ask, let alone care to. He was mostly looked over and on the whole, unimportant. He sat in the same room orn after orn, and didn’t really get around all that much; although for a few unhappy decaorns, he'd been moved to what amounted to a storage closet while the tactical offices went through renovations. At least though, he’d been seen as reliable enough to have been kept around for vorns. And he’d seen his fair share of mecha come and go. The tactical office, unfortunately, seemed to be unable to hold onto its staff for very long. 

Until Prowl came along, that was.

Prowl, somehow, had managed to stick around for the past five hundred vorns. Over that time, he’d become rather fond of the mech, dispite what others might have said behind the tactician’s back. Prowl was patient, calm, and on the whole, a pleasant mech to work with. Together, they’d gotten through more work than he’d done with all of his previous partners; and he truthfully felt like he was for once, being useful. He truly appreciated Prowl, and wanted the mech to be happy. After all, he’d come to think of Prowl as more than just an office mate or a partner; he’d come to see Prowl and himself as friends over the vorns.

Which brought him to the other black and white mech that had been coming into their office recently. It hadn’t taken long for him to see that Jazz was the complete opposite of Prowl, and not just when it came to their paint job arrangement. Their personalities were radically different, and their work ethics, at least when it came to paperwork, were on the farthest ends of the spectrum from each other. Prowl was discreet, and had spent most of his time alone in their office, where Jazz was vivacious and couldn’t live without social interaction. This massive difference in personalities caused numerous clashes between the two. Nothing physical, but certainly heated on the verbal battle field.

But _he_ saw what was really going on between them.

They worked well together, despite what the base thought. They challenged each other into improving in both their workings and their personal affairs. Prowl and Jazz balanced each other, even if they themselves didn’t see it. Prowl was livened by the saboteur’s outgoing personality and enthusiasm for everything from the extraordinary to the mundane, and Prowl brought order and stability to a world that Jazz had been hanging onto by mere threads. They were a good match for each other, and it was obvious to him that they were becoming aware of that.

But they were both just so _stubborn_.

Recently, he’d noticed their interactions become stilted and uncomfortable. Prowl would bite his lip when Jazz entered the room and grip the armrests of his chair tightly. Jazz would shift from foot to foot far more than could possibly be normal, and look at him instead of Prowl, whom he was actually speaking to. What’s more, both of them had developed a rather suspicious stutter whenever the conversation turned to something personal. Neither of them were making any sort of move towards the other, despite the obvious desire that both of them held for each other.

And so, after yet another session of witnessing Prowl’s silent pining for the mech that had just left his office, he was going to do something about it. And in his humble opinion he had a rather elegant, if simple, plan. He just had to be patient. And Primus above could he ever be patient; one didn't last long in tactical without patience. So when Jazz ever so faithfully sauntered in to convince Prowl to come and get some energon with him, he knew that the moment of truth had finally come. Operation ‘UST’ was a go.

Jazz had as usual come to stand at his side, leaning casually as he plead his typical, and admittedly winning, case to the tactician. “C’mon, Prowl. Ya know that you work better on a full tank; and besides, it’s good for morale when the troops see their commanders takin’ care to keep themselves in top functionin’ form.”

Prowl sighed as he did every time he was faced with this argument, and as predicted, caved in to the whims of the object of his undeclared affections. “Alright, I will accompany you for a cube in the recreation room, but one cube only. There is still much to be done before the end of this shift.”

_It was show time._

Just as Prowl stood and went to step around him to leave, he immediately threw his bottom drawer out into the tactician’s path, causing him to trip. And just according to plan, Jazz, for his part, played into his plan perfectly by reaching out to catch the falling mech, unwittingly slipping into the role of the noble knight in shining armor. And just as planned, the force caused both mechs to fall to the floor, Prowl practically sprawled on top of Jazz, and Jazz with his arms wrapped reflexively around Prowl. His plan had worked _flawlessly._

And it got _better!_

Not only had the two officers fallen on top of each other, when they had fallen, their lips had meshed together in a kiss that he had never even thought of as a side effect of his plan. If he had hands, he would definitely be patting himself on the back right now. He settled though, for a mental round of celebratory laughter as he slowly pulled the drawer he’d thrown out back in, destroying the evidence of his involvement. Neither mech in the room would have noticed him doing so anyways; they were both too preoccupied with each other to possibly notice that the desk was moving on its own.

**Author's Note:**

> Something like ten years ago, I found a prompt generator, it gave me "UST" and "inanimate object" and then this drabble of a thing happened. Un-beta'd, cause I tend to just throw things at the wall these days. Plus, ya know. It's teenaged me gold. I wrote this from the POV of a desk. It ain't gonna get better, no matter what ya try to do to it.


End file.
